The Long Road
by Rathias
Summary: "All the courses of my life do show; I am not in the roll of common men" - From the very beginning, this is the story of a man who rose from a rag tag gang member to become the face of Humanity, it's defender and savior. His life, his experiences, his successes, and his failures. (M Shep, Earthborn, Sole Survivor - eventual Shep/Miri. M for descriptive violence and imagery)
1. Chapter 1 - Elaine I

**A/N After many years, the only stories I've posted on this site have been about Shepard and Mass Effect. This will be my last attempt at writing a story about this character and the series, barring all unforeseen circumstances like being talked into writing more about it, from someone else's perspective. This story is meant to be a story from the eyes of a male Commander Shepard – who was born on Earth and is the only survivor from Akuze. The original. Everything in this story is meant to be what I always thought was going through my head and/or actually being spoken from the character himself. There is a lot of leniency in this story, however, I do try my best to pull actual lines from the games themselves to correlate with what actually happened in the games. You will find, however, that some of the conversations will have more added into it. I'll also note that some of the things talked about in the game between characters might not be touched upon in this story. **

** Eventually this story will be Shepard/Miranda Lawson pairing… however, Shepard is a man and men have needs so there are definitely woman before her.**

** For fans of my other stories, you'll note that you will see them mentioned in this one. **

** With that. I hope you can enjoy this story and I look forward to every single chapter I write. It'll be long, but hopefully in the end, it'll be worth it.**

* * *

**Log 1**

**Date – April 11th, 2172**

**Location – Vancouver, Earth, Sol System**

I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting when I decided to enlist into the Alliance Military. I know some part of me wanted nothing more than to get away from Tenth Street Reds and the life that came with it, but would I really find myself happier in the midst of an organization built on control? I mean come on, growing up 'free' and wild with no cares, no rules, and no real expectations had it's wonderful and great advantages… so then why did I find myself standing in the pouring rain, looking at the front door of an Alliance Recruiting Station, completely soaked and alone? Something in me wanted this more than they wanted those freedoms. What did I see in the military that would pull me so strongly away from it all?

Hopefully the man I become in the future figures it out because I know for sure that the 18 year old standing in the middle of a busy street, in the midst of a crowd of people walking to and from work and home and other random places that I could care less about, has no clue why he's here.

_"Are you sure this is what you want to do?"_

The voice caught me by surprise, causing me to snap out of my little philosophical talk with myself. I recognized the voice instantly, though why I was hearing it caught me off guard. Of course she would know that I was here, she was the only person who knew about these thoughts. As I turned and stared into 'eyes of honey', I once told her in one of my pathetic attempts at being sappy (and also inebriated) moments, I saw a look of concern spread across her face.

Her name was Elaine. She was one of the oldest members in the Reds, with Finch and myself being the oldest. Her golden hair was hidden underneath a faded and torn maroon hoody, a hoody one should note that belonged to me, which could cause the both of us a lot of trouble should someone have saw her putting it on. Elaine was actually a pretty important woman in the Reds, not because she was the only woman in the Reds, but because she was Finch's girlfriend.

And she was cheating on him with me.

Whoops.

_"I don't know…"_

Someone might think I would be an asshole or something for doing such a thing, and a small part of me might agree, but if you knew the relationship like I did… you wouldn't care either. The only reason I feel any sort of remorse is because of my friendship with Finch. The man had saved me countless times from opposing gangs trying to kill me and never asked for anything in return, and yet here I was, sleeping with his girlfriend behind his back while he went around pulling off shady deals and probably trying to kill opposing gang members who stumbled onto the wrong turf. He was like a brother to me, but I couldn't stand the way he treated her.

We met her when we were 14, just walking through the streets kicking around things and just causing general mischief. Elaine was unlucky enough to have parents who wanted a new life on the bustling new colony on Mars. Unlucky for Elaine being that their new life didn't involve a child that they didn't want anymore. So one day, she woke up in the middle of an abandoned apartment to no parents and a note that said, "Off to Mars! Best of luck!"

Kind of a messed up way to drop a kid… least my parents had the excuse of being dead.

She was going through a dispose box behind a mech shop trying to find salvage to sell to someone to get some credits for food… but because she was on OUR turf, by Finch's knowledge, whatever she found was our possession… but Finch had a better idea. Instead of taking whatever she found as ours, he took her.

And thus started the very shaky relationship between him and her. You could tell as time went on that Finch actually began to fall in love with her. But down the road, Elaine would tell me that it was all one sided… and the only reason she ever showed any sort of emotions about Finch it was to protect her from some sort of abuse he seemed to enjoy to impose upon her. Abuse he also liked to make very apparent to everyone. He wasn't afraid to beat her in front of us, which caused a lot of arguments between him and I. I'm not trying to be a white knight or anything, but she didn't deserve any of that and the only reason Finch did it was because that was all he knew. Control through force.

When we first started talking, she expected me to treat her exactly the same, which was logical – considering I was Finch's right hand. What he was willing to do, she thought I'd be willing to do more of or more violently. But she was wrong, I was the one who would try and temper Finch and calm him down whenever he got out of control. I was the calm, patient one who the guys went to talk to when things happened out in the streets or just personal issues. I was always willing to listen, because why not? Why should I expect others to listen to what I say, or follow what I say, when I'm not willing to listen to them? Common sense, right?

I began to, I guess 'fall', for Elaine almost as soon as we met. She became my best friend instantly because all we would do was just hang out whenever Finch wanted to go do something stupid that I just didn't see the point of. We'd spend most of our time walking around and talking or just sitting back in the apartments that we Reds called home. Spend the day out and about and the night's trying to comfort her as she either cried about her parents leaving her (something to this day she hasn't gotten over) or applying whatever ointment I could find to whatever new wounds Finch would impose upon her.

Everything was perfect – but neither of us was expecting how our relationship would evolve when we became victims of a police raid.

Relaxing in one of, what we thought was, safe houses on the east end of downtown Vancouver, Elaine and I were sitting in the back room, listening to some music we had found from the early 21st century in the back of some run down vehicle nearby, couldn't really remember what we were talking about, when we heard a thunderous boom of cops knocking down the front door and proceeding to go from room to room, arresting every single Red in the building.

Except for Elaine and I.

As soon as I realized what was happening, I grabbed her and we jumped out of the nearest window, hoping that something would cushion the fall from three stories – which, thankfully, a couple of nearby pedestrians walking by did a tremendous job of. We got up, hand in hand, and ran – leaving behind a couple on the ground wondering what the hell just happened. We ran as far as we could until we couldn't run anymore. I'm not exactly sure what clicked in that moment, but as we were catching our breathes in the middle of an alley, she pulled me close and kissed me.

I didn't complain.

She never could really tell me what it was about that evening that pushed her to make the move, but like I said, I couldn't complain, albeit I didn't really expect my first kiss to go that way. Turns out Elaine would be my first for a lot of things, and that was something that brought me a little inch of pride of being able to hold over Finch.

We would come to find out that the safe house had become a front for a deal that Finch was trying to pull off. The cops got wind of it and decided to ruin it all. Finch would go on and rant angrily about how the deal would have pulled us from the life of street rats to the more prestigious levels of gangs.

I was more surprised that there was such thing as prestigious street gangs.

Finch never told me what he was trying to deal, and once he said no to when I inquired, I stopped asking. It was at that point that the thoughts of enlisting became increasingly more prevalent in my mind. I think my subconscious was trying to tell me that I needed to get myself away from this life before Finch pulled me down to a level that I couldn't come back from.

Elaine and I would spend the next few years spending more and more time with one another and Finch, not once, had a clue what was going on. She would put on an act around him that he would easily buy, but when she wasn't with him, when she was with me… she was her. And I fell in love with that.

_"I'm going to miss you,"_ she said, running one of her delicate hands up to her face to tuck back loose strands of her golden hair. I couldn't tell if it was the rain or not, but it looked as if she was crying.

I didn't move closer, I wanted to, but I held myself back for a reason I didn't quite understand, _"I know. I'll write…"_

_"Do that."_

We stood there for what seemed like ages, but I would only come to find out was five minutes, staring at one another before I turned and walked across the street, and into my future.

_"So you think you got what it takes to join the Alliance?"_

_"I don't think. I know,"_ Where the hell did this confidence come from?

_"Heart, I like it, kid. We need that. Any ideas on what you want to do?"_

What I want to do? What do you mean what I want to do? _"Infantry."_

_"Ah, good ol' ground pounder. We could always use more of those. When do you want to leave?"_

_"When's the next shuttle out of here?"_

_"I'll make the call. Just sign here."_

Sonuvabitch.

* * *

_(!) The song listened to and that inspired this chapter is "Be Safe" by The Cribs. Most of you will recognize it from a certain fight movie, and I feel like it really expressed the kind of thoughts that was going through Shepard's head when he decided to enlist... and well most of his earlier life in general. _

_Or maybe I'm just talking out of my ass, haha._


	2. Chapter 2 - Basic I

**A/N Any and all reviews of this story are appreciated, especially ones containing constructive criticism and pointers. I know most of the story so far hasn't even touched part of the games yet, but that's the point. I want people to know Shepard before the games so they can see why he makes the decisions he does during his time aboard the Normandy and beyond.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Log 2**

**Date – May 25th, 2172**

**Location – Undisclosed Location, Earth, Sol System**

I like the military.

I never thought I'd utter those words when I was standing in the streets of Vancouver, but after a month of training, I can safely say I made the right choice. I feel as if I belong here, that I was meant to be here, like this was my destiny…

Or I could just be talking out of my ass. Whatever.

It felt right, alright? Everything just came naturally. Whenever I was told to do something, I did it. No questions asked. Run? Run. Scream? Scream. Push? Push. Got it. This place couldn't be easier, so it was always amazing to me whenever I watched the other recruits just break down in this environment, crying from getting yelled at so much or just getting beaten for being so slow and unresponsive. This one kid, Michale, broke down and just stopped responding. It was a weird sight to see, watching someone go from running all over the place screaming to just standing there, eyes blank and not talking. Not moving. I was getting dragged through uniform sizing, so I never saw what became of the guy.

I guess I should maybe be more considerate; most of the kids here came from families in the middle class who didn't really have to work a day before this. Not many can claim they spent their childhood rolling through alleyways with stun rods and bats beating up other kids. I can't believe that actually gave me an advantage in all of this, but in hindsight, I could see why. Actively beating up other kids with bats (I worded this really wrong) kind of makes you numb to the violence you're suddenly exposed to in Basic. Normal people would tell me that it was a bad thing I experienced all of that, but hey, whatever. Not all of us had the privilege of choice in the matter.

The days were simple. Wake up a 0400, get into your PT gear, go run 10 miles and do who knows how many pushups. Come back to the barracks and shower, which I should note came as a big surprise to me when I found out that I would be showering alongside the opposite sex. I adjusted quickly, but it was funny to watch the other boys squirm when they saw, what one could easily guess, their first naked woman. Thank you, Elaine.

Then came the classes. Death by hologram. Spending hours upon hours sitting in a room and listening to some person drone on and on and on about Earth and it's vast history of wondrous victories and accomplishments. I know deep down, a part of me enjoyed it, I mean I was finally learning about where I was born and everything that was in it outside of my alleys. About the galaxy and everything that humanity had discovered so far in it. It was amazing… but if they had found someone with a more monotone voice than the instructor we had, I would have been seriously impressed.

Once we were done with classes, by then it was time for chow. Hot meals. Which was absolute astounding. I know I gained a least twenty pounds in that first month alone. I was lucky to have one hot meal a day back in the streets, and now I was getting three? Seriously, why didn't I do this sooner?

In our hour or so of free time that we managed to get in the evenings, I would spend the time writing letters to Elaine, keeping her updated on what was going on through training and how easy it was. On the flipside, she would tell me how Finch still didn't know where I was and was beginning to lose his mind. She noted that he was going in a down wards spiral and that she's seen more and more shady individuals show up to some of our houses. She couldn't pull any sort of information from him, not for the lack of trying, but because he refused to tell anyone anything and had violently reprimanded a couple of the guys for trying to figure out themselves, Elaine included.

That's not good.

I was quickly established as a leader, not by choice, but naturally. Most of the other recruits saw how easy it was for me to adapt to the situations we found ourselves in and just fell in line behind me. The whole "hey, let's follow the guy who knows what he's doing" mentality. I didn't notice it happening, I mean I did raise an eyebrow or so whenever I asked someone to do something and they would jump on it immediately without question, but I guess the instructors did, because as soon as we began combat simulations, they put me in charge of the whole platoon.

It was just like leading the Reds. Except with guns. Well fake guns, but still.

I guess I was a better leader than I even thought because we managed to roll through every single combat simulation with relative ease. At least to me it seemed easy, most of what happened seemed completely predictable and so the reactions could easily be predetermined. It also helped that I managed to find within the platoon a couple of guys (and gal) who had it (almost) as rough as I did growing up. I made them squad leaders, broke the platoon down into teams I thought would be the most efficient, and just sat back as one by one, we earned honors and set records on every single course they threw at us. That was… until the "Ahern Special".

It was morning and our lead Drill Sergeant had us sitting in a circle around him after morning formation. We hadn't had chow yet and there wasn't PT, so it was early... as in 0430 early, "Alright, recruits, here's the scenario – based upon true events from the First Contact War with the turians. With a platoon sized element, insert and acquire a data module located somewhere in the combat training facility."

We all sat there and waited, before Johnson, one of 3rd squads members, spoke up, "That's it, sir?" He was quickly yoked up by another drill sergeant for speaking out of place and dragged off into a sand pit to be IT'd**(!)** ferociously for a good five minutes.

"That's it. Shepard," He glared over to me, something in his eyes made me feel uncomfortable about what were heading into, "It's on you." Those words, for some reason, had a sense of magnitude that I never really heard from him before. Something was going to be different about this scenario. Something was off.

I raised my brow in confusion, "Sir, yes, sir! Echo! Form it up!"

People immediately began jumping up and forming into their respective groups.

"… Squad leaders on me," I said as I pulled away from the platoon.

I found myself quickly surrounded by three people. Isabella, 1st Squad's Leader, was a small petite Hispanic woman who has kicked my ass more times in close quarters combat than I count.

Stryker, 2nd Squad's Leader, was the physical stud in the platoon. Standing two inches higher than me, the man demanded respect just from his appearance alone. Still don't know why I was leading him, but whatever, he listened and executed. All I could ask for.

And finally, Weaver, 3rd Squad's leader. I could try to describe this man to you but it would be impossible, for he has so many quirks that who you meet might not be who I describe. Part of me thinks he's schizophrenic, but part of me just thinks he's weird.

"Let's just get this out of the way," Isabella began, "This isn't going to be a normal scenario. They've never given us this much lack of information before. Something is up."

I couldn't have agreed with her more.

Stryker just shrugged, "Who cares? Let's get in there and get it done. Last one we have here in Basic so what's the worst they can throw at us?"

"Famous last words," Weaver chipped in.

I didn't want them to know just how confused I was about what was going on, so I put on my best poker face and resorted to basics, "Still, let's get it done and get it done clean. We all know our roles so let's just take it like we usually do. Nothing too crazy. Nothing heroic. Treat it like any other scenario, but be aware and more reactive. Got it? Dismissed."

They each nodded and headed back to their own squads, prepping each group for what we were about to face. Ten minutes later, Isabella and her squad, whose purpose was assault, was leading the way into the facility, rifles at the ready and set to stun. My position was with Stryker, in the support squad, with Weaver and his squad dealing with security.

As soon as the last man of Isabella's squad entered the facility, it shut and from inside, we immediately heard shots being fired. Almost as soon as it started, it was already over.

I pulled up the HUD on my visor, which visually showed me the status of each of my squad leaders.

Isabella – Neutralized.

Sonuvabitch.

The doors slowly reopened.

"That's not good," I heard Stryker say.

This definitely put a big hinder on our original plan, so like good troops, we adjusted. I brought Weaver's squad and mixed them in with Stryker's, breaking everyone down into groups of three rather than having a whole squad go on one at a time. Less people to shoot at and it allowed the group to maintain a wider stance and larger dispersion, making them harder targets to hit. Confused as to how one of my whole squads got taken out in a matter of seconds, I led the first fire team in, made up of Stryker, Johnson (the one mentioned earlier, now covered in sand), and myself.

We moved slowly up to the front of the facility and just as before, as soon as we entered, the doors shut behind us – and all hell broke loose.

Shots were hitting the ground all around us, but because of our small numbers and how spaced out we were, none of them really hit us. A few glancing hits here and there, but not enough to cause our training suits to recognize us as being stunned. We dove for cover behind the nearest metal barricade, listening to the shots pings off on the other side. I could see the stunned bodies of Isabella and her squad where we had been standing just seconds prior.

Heavily suppressed with no obvious chance for reinforcements, "Stryker, get eyes on something."

Stryker peeked his head around the corner, "I got eyes on four individuals in elevated positions. Two at 1 o'clock, One at 2. One at 11."

I nodded, an idea already forming in my head, "Alright, on my mark, we push forward to the next barricade. Johnson, as soon as we move I want you to start shooting towards the one at 11 o'clock. Fuck precision, just keep him suppressed enough for us to move. Stryker, handle the one at 2."

They both nodded. We were there for a bit behind the barricade, me listening for a very distinctive noise.

Hiss.

Weapons overheated – there's our window.

"Mark!"

We got up quickly and began shooting, sending rounds in the directions assigned and pushing forward to the next barricade twenty feet in front of us. While Stryker and Johnson were focusing on suppression, I kept my eyes open and darting around, taking in the environment.

There wasn't much hope for any sort of defense, most of the facility just housed waist height metal barricades. In the center, however, was a small house. That house would contain our objective. Noted.

We got behind the next barricade and took cover again. I pulled my HUD up again and tried to establish comm with Weaver, who was still outside with the rest of the platoon.

But hey, comm was jammed so to hell with that idea.

Sonuvabitch.

We managed to do this maneuver, waiting for their weapons to overheat, allowing a break in their suppression, and then pushing forward, all the way up to the house, which allowed us to take a more favorable defensive position. It was a small 10x10 house with four windows, one on each wall. In the middle of the house was a table, on which the module was resting upon.

"Well we're here. We have it. What now?" Johnson asked as he stood next to a window, leaning against the wall and peeking out, trying to find hostiles.

I didn't know. But my questions were answered when a giant timer appeared in a hologram above the module.

5:00.

A timer.

Survive.

Sonuvabitch.

* * *

**(!) IT'd (Incentive Training) – if you've ever seen videos of Marine Corps boot camp, you've probably seen scenes where some poor kid is getting screamed at to do pushups and other sort of workouts fast and probably sloppy, all while screaming at the top of their lungs. **

**Wasn't really a story that I could link to this chapter, however, I did listen to "The Downfall of Us All" by A Day To Remember most of the time that I wrote this. Maybe it means something, maybe it doesn't! Enjoy!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Basic II

**Log 3**

**Date Redacted**

**RTC Camp Pendleton, Earth, Sol System**

When I thought all hell had broke loose earlier, that would be a pony show compared to what happened to us next. Before we even know it, Johnson was on the ground, twitching violently after being lit up by God knows how many shots to the chest.

"Holy fu-" Stryker managed to get out before another eruption of gunfire came upon us. We took cover quickly, trying to avoid any sort of angle that the enemy could get on us. We settled in opposite corners, watching the door and the window opposite of us, and shooting out of them sporadically when we saw any sort of movement.

"There's a lot more than four now," He said in the next break, "There's got to at least be a dozen out there."

"And only two of us, with Johnson now out. Damnit," I tried to wrap my mind around some sort of plan but nothing was coming up.

4:33

Not even 30 seconds in and we were completely suppressed. The enemy had to know this, because between breaks we could hear boots shuffling, getting closer and closer to our position.

4:27

"If we stay here, we're sitting ducks. We have to move."

"In this!?"

"I know! Follow my lead, alright? On my mark, move out and just rush for the nearest barricade," I jerked my thumb in the direction of the door next to me, the one he was facing, "Try your best to get any sort of eyes on enemy positions. I'll cover you."

He seemed hesitant, but he nodded. It wasn't the soundest decision I've ever made, but we needed to get out of the kill zone and we needed to get out of it fast. Two people couldn't hold that building. As soon as I heard the gunfire begin to die down…

"Mark!" He rushed up and ran as hard as he could out of the door. I brought my weapon up to my shoulder, standing up and rushing to grab the module, holding down the trigger of my rifle and sending shots out of each of the windows before following him. A couple of groans echoing from the background told me that through luck alone I managed to hit something.

4:16

As soon as he found a suitable cover, Stryker jumped over it and began covering me as I made my movement to him. The gunfire had erupted again by this time, but I was close enough to the barricade to make it over in time.

"Got anything?"

He shook his head, "Nothing, Shepard. I saw a couple of muzzle flashes from the opposite side of the house."

Hitting us from one side? That didn't make sense. There had to me mo-

An arm grabbed Stryker by the throat, but the bastard didn't realize quite how strong the man was. A punch to the gut, followed by a hook sent the enemy falling to the ground, out cold. But the fight had left Stryker exposed to…

"Ah!" He let out a painful shout as round after round hit him in the chest and back.

"Stryker!"

An arm wrapped itself around my neck.

"Scenario over, Shepard."

"Echo platoon, atten-hut!"

The click of boots echoed throughout the facility, now empty of all barricades, and more resembling an old abandoned hangar than a combat simulation center. Our Lead Drill Sergeant did an about face. I was standing next to him, our platoon's guidon in my hand, as a man in a crisp Alliance uniform came up to him and exchanged salutes.

"Send them to the squad bay, Drill Sergeant. I wish to speak with Recruit Shepard alone."

Another salute followed by an acknowledgement. I was left standing there with this new man inspecting me, the rest of the platoon having been fallen out and sent away.

"Recruit Shepard… I must say I've heard a lot about you since you came to Basic."

I kept my silence, staring straight ahead.

"You've set a lot of new records, not just in your physical and academic endeavors," he continued, pacing around me, "But in combat simulations as well. You're the first person in a very long who's been forced to lead through the 'Ahern Special'."

A heavy pat on my shoulder caused me to turn and stare the man in the eyes as he returned to being in front of me, "I failed too."

"Sir?"

"The simulation isn't meant to be won, in any sort of fashion, Shepard. It's meant to expose. It's meant to see how leaders fare under circumstances in which they would not be able to get out of," he rolled his hands around in the air, searching for a better way to describe, "How they would fare in a mission that they would come to find out that they could not come out of alive."

To see if a leader would break down, causing his squad or whoever to follow suite, and lose control. If a leader could keep a calm head when he knew he was already dead.

"You did well."

I what?

"Thank you, sir?"

A laugh bellowed from him, "The name's Commander David Anderson. Good to meet you, son."

Time flew by quickly and before I knew it, we were doing our final 50-mile hike, with me in the forefront with our platoon. I didn't see Commander Anderson again until the day we graduated. He was our guest of honor and I found him looking over at me when he made mention of any sort of great achievement and the lesson that was learned from it, as if trying to hint at something. It was he who also read out our names at the end of the ceremony, listing off each of our individual's future and where we were bound to next.

"Pvt. Shepard, John," A long pause, with Anderson's eyes bearing down on me, "OCS."

… What?

More schooling? Does this training ever end? I swear, it must be my fate to be stuck in non-stop training until the end of my contract. Here I was thinking that I was done, but no, off to another school. I swear the Fleet must be some sort of magical place that only exists in fairy tales because I'm sure as hell not goi-….

Wait. OCS. 'Officer' Candidate School.

Did I just become an Officer?

GODDAMNIT.

I said my goodbyes to my platoon, most of them just as surprised as I was of my nomination. A lot of them, including Isabella and Weaver, were going off to engineering school or other places, with only Stryker going to the actual Fleet to some Infantry Division stationed on Eden Prime. I should have been going with him but I guess the Alliance had other plans for me.

For some odd reason, I couldn't shake this feeling as I was boarding the Kodiak shuttle that Commander Anderson had a hand in this. I guess I should be kind of grateful. Instead of being a grunt on the ground like I had planned on being, I'll be an actual leader, which isn't so bad – I enjoyed the challenges of leadership. Trying to find the right combination of people to make a successful of squad, coming up with tactics, improvising on the fly, and watching that improvisation turning into battlefield success brought me a huge sense of pride.

OCS turned out to be very similar to Basic Training, minus the fact that instead of dealing with down to Earth kids with somewhat similar backgrounds, I was dealing with hard headed men who thought their life was all about getting what they want. Men who came from privileged families, fresh out of college, and who still smelt of alcohol from the plethora of fraternity parties I was sure to hear stories about. It didn't help that at the age of 18, almost 19, I was four to five years younger than most of the guys there. But that didn't stop me from making an impact as soon as I got there.

One of the people who stood out, for example, was this guy named Valdez. Valdez had this firm belief that just because his father was a multi-millionaire dealing with some science regarding human genetics, that whenever he demanded something, it suddenly became his.

I proved him wrong the day he tried to take Platoon Leader from me.

I came into OCS with the instructors having very high expectations of me, especially considering I had the recommendation of a respected Alliance Commander getting me into the school to begin with. So the first day there, they decided to put me in command of the Platoon.

Sure, I can do that. Did it during Basic, shouldn't be much different.

But of course, one of these guys was bound to have a problem with that. That guy was Valdez.

"Hey Shepard, give me the guidon," Valdez would say to me one morning while I was tying my boots after the post-PT shower.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm leading this Platoon now."

I raised a brow at him, not out of confusion, but more out of a questioning his seriousness.

"Give it here, Shepard."

"No."

He took a step forward. Instinct kicked in and I tensed, beginning to calculate all the different ways I could take this guy to the ground with really having to move from my seat, because my seat was damn comfortable.

"I don't know who you think you are, Shepard, but no one says no to me. My father works for Henry Lawson, do you know who that is? One call from me and I could sink your ENTIRE career, -boy-. Give me the goddamn guidon."

He then made the mistake of reaching for –my- guidon.

Before he knew what was happening, I had shot up, sending my fist right into his chin and sending him stumbling backwards. I'll give him credit, he recovered fast enough to throw a left hook, but it was sloppy – lazy even – and Stryker had taught me three different ways to break a man's arm after he throws a left hook like that.

Valdez was victim to one of those ways.

I knelt down next to him as he writhed on the ground in pain, tensing his jaw tightly and staring at me with such astounding fury, I couldn't help but laugh, "Haha, you think I'm going to just step aside and let a spoiled rich boy like you try to take from me what I earned? You're sadly mistaken."

Now, I don't like leading by fear or an iron fist, so I'll admit it was really out of place for me to insult the guy. One's subordinates should be able to come to you knowing that you'll be a leader who listens and respects them. I didn't want to rest of the platoon to think I was going to lead cruelly and unjustly after what I just did.

I sighed and stood up, extending my hand out to Valdez to help him up, "Come on, and lets get you to the infirmary."

Not quite sure if the nurse bought the excuse that the floors are really slippery after mopping them…

Besides that, OCS was relatively calm. Valdez and I came to have some weird sense of mutual respect for one another and near the end of our course; I made him one of our squad leaders, to which he excelled at, to my surprise. He learned his lesson from me and you could see it. His emotions were tempered and had calmed down, following my example of leading with patience instead of demanding.

Commander Anderson would visit me a couple of times over the period I was there, asking me about how I was doing, and whatnot. Whenever I had troubles and or couldn't figure out something for myself, he was always there to lend a hand and to provide guidance. He took an extreme interest in my personal profile, following closely my achievements in OCS – which seemed to surpass those that I managed to set in Basic. He came to me one night asking me why I had enlisted in the first place. I told him that I didn't know. It was the truth, at least, and even though all of it had felt right and I was glad that I made the decision, to this day it really hasn't hit me why I decided to make the first step to begin with. Not sure if he understood what I meant, but the answer must have been good enough for him, because he never asked about it again.

There was no major culminating event in OCS. Everything went normal. Time flew by. Classes were finished. And once again I found myself standing in the forefront of a formation, a guidon in my hand. I think it's ceremony to have a guest of honor at each graduation, because like Basic, there was a man – who one could immediately tell was well respected, standing before us giving a commencement speech about what it meant to be an officer and the sense of pride one would feel about leading men into victorious battle.

So as this Admiral Hackett read out my name for our assignments, once again, I found myself just as confused as I did at Basic when they told me where I would going next.

"Lt. Shepard, John. ICT. N1."

Everyone turned and looked at me, pity in their eyes. N1 was admin, wasn't it?

I was becoming an admin officer?

Sonuvabitch.

* * *

**(!) A/N I hope everyone is enjoy the story as much as I am enjoying writing it. Want to think those of you who have stuck with it so far and here's to hoping that you continue to enjoy what you've read so far.**


	4. Chapter 4 - Anhur I

**Log 4**

**Date Redacted**

**Location – Orbit around Anhur, Amun System**

"Alright, listen up people!"

It had been four years since I stepped off the bus at Camp Pendleton. Basic training came and went… then a surprise nomination to OCS… followed by induction into the N7 program. Four years of non-stop training. Leading to this.

"The situation is fucking messy, gents. We're going to a planet called Anhur. This is your final test."

Anhur? Anhur… I've heard of it recently in the news… Garden world. Populated heavily by Humans –and- Batarians… are we hunting down remnants of the criminals from the Blitz? No, that's not it…

"There's a massive civil war going on down there between human corporations and abolitionists. Apparently the big wigs decided that slavery was a good idea again and this didn't sit well with people. But that's not why we're here. Not our issue. Our issue however, is that there's a very important Alliance Scientist by the name of Dr. Elisha Matthews down there in the thick of it all… and we're here to get her out."

A simple extraction mission… shouldn't be too hard. We had harder tests during our zero-g combat training.

"Staff Lt. Shepard!"

I stood up quickly, "Sir!"

"Think you can handle this?"

"Absolutely, sir."

He nodded, "You drop into New Thebes in 20mikes. Prep your team."

Out of the 200 candidates for the program, only five of us had stayed on all the way through each designation – and I was leading that team now. Sometime between N3 and N4 I received a promotion to Staff Lt.. I was still the youngest man on the team, but that didn't matter anymore for I was the most senior. Though not once in my career yet have I ever had to pull rank on someone, something I'm glad for, I let my actions do most of my talking. I had excelled in all the training I was thrown through and had saved the people's lives I led now countless times in the training that took us into combat zones. People would dub me a natural leader. I shrugged it off. I just stopped making dumb decisions.

"Alright everyone," I addressed the group of four that stood before me, "This is it."

They all nodded at me solemnly, understanding the importance of what we were about to do. Survive this and we were done. We would be N7. I don't think any of them really were paying much heed to the actual logistics of the mission itself. They were too focused on the fact that soon it'd all be over.

But I needed to prevent that.

"Focus. Let's get it done and let's get it done clean. We all know our roles so let's take it like we usually do. Nothing too crazy. Nothing heroic. Be Aware. Be reactive. Any questions?"

None.

"Good. Check your weapons. Check your gear."

"Yes, sir!"

This team and I had been through hell together for the past few years, I hated it when they called me sir. I understand the formalities, but in combat, formalities go out of the window. The only thing that matters is people know what to do, when to do it, and the man keeping the chaos under control. I was lucky enough to have a team that comprised of individuals who understood that very well. I took many a talking to from the higher brass about letting such indiscretions slide when they were caught calling me Shepard with no rank, but to hell with them. They were my troops and they earned the right.

1stLt. Erin King was our long-range specialist. Not formally, but out of each and every one of us, not one could out perform her with a sniper rifle. They tried, of course, and they failed, of course – causing all of us to laugh as the Sniper Instructors walked away from her with their heads down low. She on the other hand, chose Intelligence as her specialization. You needed info, she'd make sure you got it… one way or another.

1stLt. Mark Miller was our data specialist. He used to be a street rat like me in New York City, using his proficiency with computers to hack teller machines and funding his own private hacking firm at the age of 11. The cops busted him when he was 17 and they gave him a choice of twenty in jail or twenty in the military. He chose jail. The court chose otherwise.

2ndLt. Jordan Reed, communications specialist. He was never really talkative, which one might consider counter productive since he's our COMM specialist, but whatever. He did his job and he did it damn good. I don't know how the man did it sometimes, but no matter where we were, we would always have voice with one another.

1stLt. Phoenix Meacham, close quarters combat. I can't describe this man. I just let his fists do the talking, whenever on the rare occasion that he decides to shut his mouth, making him the polar opposite of Reed. He reminded me a lot of Stryker from Basic, just shorter and stockier.

I never chose a specialization, much to the vexation of my Instructors. I spent most of my time during our training focusing on Psychology and Linguistics, instead of on more physical means of prowess. I'm not one to try and rush into a fight. If I can talk it down, I will. Which studying those two topics helped quite a bit in those aspects. My team would say I was the Jack-of-All-Trades, being the second best behind everyone else in their own specializations, which I would give credit to them because I would do nothing but pester the fuck out of them between missions to teach me about each of their own skills as much as possible. This would eventually earn me the mocking title of "He Who Asks Too Many Questions." Whoops. Oh well, I could live with that. My job was to lead and I did that damn well.

"You know," Erin began, "I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself once I get all of that free time. No more 20 hour days… no more classes…"

"Maybe actually start acting like a real woman," Meacham retorted, still chastising her for how many times she used to beat up other male candidates during the course of training.

Erin shot him a death glare, "I'll show you a real wom-"

I raised my hand to stop them from escalating further, laughing at their exchange, "Save it for the debrief, King."

"Yeah, yeah…" She turned back to facing the chute of the shuttle, but not before shooting Meacham one more glare, and focusing on tuning the scope of her sniper.

: 17 to drop.

"Alright. Weapons hot. Let's-"

"Shepard!"

An explosion ripped throughout the Kodiak, sending the team flying against the walls. Something had hit us.

Sonuvabitch.

* * *

The crash landing wasn't the hardest I've been privy to experience, but it didn't make it any less of a pain to try and egress out of. Most of the team was scattered over the floor, slowly rising. The dust settled fast as we slowly recovered, but a quick glance towards the cockpit told me that not all of us were so lucky to have survived.

"Shit, Status."

"Green." King.

"Green." Meacham.

"Green." Miller.

…

"Reed, status."

…

"Anyone got eyes on Reed?"

"I do," King reported, "Standby."

I pulled down the visor of my helmet, activating the HUD to begin tracking the status of each of them. As they reported green, their indications on my HUD reflected that. The only one missing was Reed's, whom's status currently read N/A.

Grumbling came over the comm, "Green."

Reed's status updated.

"The Pilot and the Instructor are dead," I watched as the all shot quick glances towards the cockpit, "Which means we're going to need to find another way off this planet once we secure the objective. For now, let's get out of this shuttle."

One by one, with the exception of Meacham helping Reed, we all exited through the bent frame of the chute that leads out of the side of the Kodiak. New Thebes was a megacity; similar in design to most of the other cities I've seen, just smaller in scope. We found ourselves in the middle of a deserted intersection in what looked like the business district of the city. Streets were lined with structures that reached into the sky, and empty cars filled the roads.

Wait.

Empty cars?

I wasn't the only one to note that.

"Everyone's gone," Miller made vocal my thought, "For a city, that doesn't bode well."

"Keep moving," I pointed to the closest building with an open door, what looked to be the remains of a department store, "In there, let's go."

The team followed where I had pointed and filed inside. King stayed by the entrance and knelt down with her sniper up, watching the streets and windows as we all checked over ourselves. Meacham looked over Reed, who was only suffering from a mild concussion. Miller found the closest computer he could and linked into it with his Omni-tool. I was going over the mission details when he had found something.

"Elisha Matthews. Business District…"

Lucky us.

"Uhh," he muttered to himself a bit as he worked, "Apartment Block D, Level 24, Room 8."

"Set the checkpoint and send it to my HUD. We move in five. Reed…"

"Yes, sir?"

"You good?"

"Been worse, sir. I'll be fine."

"Good, set up a jammer. Make sure no one can pick us up on radar or any sort of comm channels."

"Already done, Shepard."

I patted him on the shoulder before moving back to the entrance, "Anything, King?"

"This place isn't as deserted as we thought."

"Figures. How many?"

"At least twenty, coming from the south," she pointed down the road that the Kodiak had opened up towards.

"Hostile?"

"We won't know till they get closer. They're all dressed as civilians. I can't make out any weapons."

"Let's not take any chances," the marker that signaled our objective appeared on my HUD, "Let's get the hell out of here."

King took point as we left the building, going in the opposite direction of the incoming unknowns. Running at a casual place through the barren streets, we found ourselves in front of Room 8, Level 24, Apartment Block D in no time. Maybe my earlier analysis about this being an easy mission would hold true… well, minus the two KIA and no way off planet. Setbacks, true, but it could be a lot worse.

I had the team set up security on the level before knocking on the door.

"Dr. Matthews? Are you home?"

No response.

I knocked again, this time louder, "Dr. Elisha Matthews?"

Nothing.

"Miller."

Miller came up, his Omni-tool at the ready and already linking into the door controls. It wasn't long before the door hissed opened…

To the barrel of a pistol being pointed straight at my face. I guess I spoke too soon about this mission maybe remaining easy.


	5. Chapter 5 - Anhur II

**Log 5**

**Date Redacted**

**Location – New Thebes, Anhur, Amun System**

"It's about time the Alliance sent someone to get me out of this shithole," the woman pointing the gun at my face said calmly, before finally lowering the weapon. She was surprisingly beautiful, and many of her features reminded me of a younger Elaine.

"Though I'm surprised they sent such a small amount of you considering…"

"Considering what?"

She paused, "What did they tell you about me, soldier?"

"The name's Shepard… and only that you were an Alliance scientist needing extraction."

She laughed, "Interesting."

She turned and walked back deeper into her apartment to some backroom where the sounds of paper shuffling could be heard. I nodded to the rest of my squad to file in after me, leaving only Meacham standing by the door as security.

"Tell me, Shepard," she yelled from inside the room, "Have you ever heard of a group called the Blue Suns?"

Blue Suns. Mercenary Band lead by two men, with only one who's named is known – a Zaeed Massani. The second man, according to Alliance intelligence, has successfully remained illusive. They led a raid against the Alliance back in 2165 research facility on Sidon. Commander Anderson briefly mentioned having dealt with them once during one of our conversations back in OCS.**(!)**

"I know of them, yes,"

"Well good. Then you know what you are up against."

"Excuse me?" Blue Suns? Here?

She reappeared from the back room, a smirk on her face, "You didn't think the Abolitionists could stand against the Corporations by themselves, did you? They don't have the vast amount of resources they do, but what they lack in that regards, they make up in private backing from off-world organizations. One of those organizations happens to be the Blue Suns. You see, the Corporations saw the advantages the Batarians on this planet had to having slaves, so in an attempt to match their profits, they reduced the minimum wage of the planet to nil, effectively making slavery 'legal' on this planet. The Blue Suns, I guess, weren't liking the amount of money this allowed the Corporations to draw in away from their Batarian kin, so they decided to back the Abolitionists."

Of course not, but I didn't expect them to turn to mercenary groups to help in their fight, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised about learning this."

"You shouldn't… but you'll know that they've been hunting me for some time now. Though I'm sure that's not the reason why the Alliance sent you here to pick me up in the first place, but just an unlucky coincidence. The only reason you managed to catch me in my apartment at this time was because I needed to come back and recover my research, which is the real reason, more than likely, why you are here. Stupid me left it behind when they tried to raid my place the first time."

"Why are they after you? And why is this research so important?"

"The research is data pertinent to the successful integration of Turian drive cores into our simple human technology. But in regards to why the Blue Suns are after me? Well,I served on the SSV Agincourt and once word got out that I was on this planet, they put a bounty out for my head. I guess they just couldn't let things go, could they?"

"But the Blue Suns had nothing to do with the Blitz."

"True, but just because they weren't there doesn't mean a mass slaughter of their kin, criminal or not, is something they easily forget, don't you think?" **(!*)**

Great. Not only do I have to deal with dragging along a scientist through what I already guessed would be hostile territory, now I have to protect her from people out for her blood. So there goes my hope for this being an easy extraction mission.

I let out an audible sigh, which she was quick to note, "Problem, Shepard?"

"Things are just never easy, are they? We need to get out of here and we need to make it fast. From my guess, we already have twenty individuals coming this way. They more than likely already identified us as Alliance and if they saw us coming this way, then they know we are here for you. Which means we are in even more danger."

She folded her arms; "Sorry for making your life so difficult then… what is your plan?"

"We have no current ways off this planet. So that's priority one. Find an egress route back out of the system."

Dr. Matthews brought her hand up her mouth in thought, "The closest spaceport is about twenty kilos from here. I have a personal taxi on the roof off this building, it's how I escaped the Blue Suns the first time and it's big enough to fit all of us."

"Then that solves that. This research better be fucking important, Doctor," I turned to face my squad, "Up to the roof. Stay alert. Miller, get access to the spaceport logs and find out what ships are still docked and could be taken. King, I want you on the roof first to get an overlay of the area, try to see if you can see any major Blue Sun groups and if they are advancing on us. Meacham…"

Meacham, who was still standing outside of the door, turned to look at me. As I opened my mouth to address him, a bang echoed through the hallway. A look of confusion appeared on his face as his hand reached up to his throat, only to find a hole the size a golf ball where his voice box used to be.

"Contact!" Reed yelled as he caught Meacham's body before it hit the floor, dragging the man into the room as blood drained out of his throat. King set up next to the door, returning fire down the hallway. In a matter of seconds, the peaceful apartments had erupted into a firefight.

"Meacham!" I rushed over to him, pulling my Omni-tool to try and get him some medi-gel, but by the time I reached him, it was too late. His status on my HUD had already updated.

Flat-lined. K.I.A.

"SHIT!"

King was unloading round after round down the hallway, "Sir! We need to move now!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Reed, pick up Meacham. Miller, take point! King, you take rear. Keep them suppressed. Doctor," I turned and found the Doctor inspecting her pistol, "Stick with me."

All she did was nod as she followed me out the door. Reed had Meacham on his back, the man's blood flowing down his hard suit. King had managed to kill a few Blue Suns, I noted when I glanced down the hallway, but more importantly suppressed the enemy enough to let us reach the lift without so much as a round even getting close to us. When the lift pinged open, I sent everyone inside, staying back to cover King as she made her way to us and into the lift herself. She pounded the consecutive buttons to take us to the roof, and as the doors were about to close, I sent one last burst down the hallway, felling one last Blue Sun before jumping in.

The lift was slow. Reed set Meacham's body against the wall and had done the best he could to try and dress the wound up. The mission went from maybe easy, to mildly difficult, to shit hitting the fan fast in a matter of a few minutes. That did not sit well with me.

"Miller, updates on the log?" I said, trying to distract myself from the image of Meacham's throat being blown away from my mind.

His voice was monotone, trying to deal with the sudden loss of a teammate while trying to stay focused on the mission on hand, "There's only one frigate that's available. It's an old frigate that was once used for industrial transport, but the owners missed payments and it was repossessed. It's owned by the Corporations."

So no loss to them.

I glanced over to Meacham. Dealing with the death of a comrade wasn't new to me. Some of the combat training we got yielded a casualty or two, but none of them yet were under my command. This was new. This sense of failure wasn't something I was accustomed to. I knew I couldn't stop what had happened, but that didn't prevent this feeling of failure from washing over me. Reed stopped trying to clean up the wound and instead looked up at me. His eyes, normally empty of emotion, were now full of a desire for revenge. He wasn't the only one. One by one I looked into theother's eyes and they each shared the same sentiments.

A loud ping signaling we had reached the roof echoed throughout the lift. As the doors hissed open, a small sense of relief came over me when the Doctor's information kept true. Alone on a landing pad just 100 feet in front of us was a taxi, big enough to fit all of us, and more.

"King, take rear. I got point," I said as I brought my rifle up to my shoulder, stepping outside of the lift and slowly making my way towards the taxi. Only a small set of stairs leading up to the landing pad separated us from the taxi.

"Shepard, something is trying to disable our scrambler," Reed announced as I took the first step up the stairs, "Also picking up a lot of interference in local frequencies. Something is coming."

His omen was soon fulfilled. From the sides of the building, a flash of white thrusted up into the sky and came crashing down with equivalent intensity in the area the squad had just vacated in our advance towards the taxi. The turnings and hissing of machinations activating soon revealed to us a Model 34-A standing before us.

A YMIR Mech.

An anti-infantry killing machine.

Sonuvabitch.

The squad took no time opening up on it. Years on the range had taught them fire control, having each individuals weapon talk with the others to avoid one's own weapon from overheating but keeping an easily maintainable fire superiority. Even the Doctor herself had opened fire with her pistol.

But none of us had the weapons needed to take out such a machine, only enough to prevent it from unleashing it's full combatant power on us, so the importance of us getting inside of the taxi and off the ground now became an extreme priority.

King was the first one in, taking Meacham's body from Reed as he stayed square with the mech and continued his assault. As soon as she had set Meacham against the far side of the taxi, she turned back, taking her place in the fire rotation and allow the Doctor enough time to board second, jumping straight into the cockpit and activating the taxi's engine and thruster controls. The ship was already pulling off the ground as Miller jumped up next, followed by myself. Reed was the last one on, sitting on the edge of the door. We had managed to cause enough of a distraction to the mech for us to all get on and get into the air safely.

It wasn't until we were in the air and the mech had no bullets coming towards it did it finally retaliate.

By shooting a fucking rocket at us.

A rocket, which impacted with the left thruster of the taxi, and sent us reeling out of control.

A rocket whose impact knocked Reed off of his perch and down to the streets below. I reached out to try and grab him, but the reeling had caused me to shift to maintain balance, a shift that was just enough to cause me to only graze the tips of Reed's hand as he reached back in a desperate attempt to grab something, but only grabbed air instead.

Ten minutes.

Two KIAs.

Two failures.

I sat in silence for the rest of the ride to the spaceport, staring at Meacham's corpse. The ride had felt like an eternity, but in all reality, it only took us seven minutes to get there. Seven long minutes of me contemplating what the fuck had just happened.

Two men under my charge were now dead and in both cases, there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I could feel a rage bubbling up inside me, not at the Blue Suns, but at myself for being such an incompetent failure.

"There was nothing you could have done," King said to me over private comms in our helmets, an attempt to consul me. I knew they could sense the doubt that was coming over me in my abilities.

Even the fucking Doctor looked back at me in pity.

We were lucky not to have any more engagements once we reached the spaceport, indicating that the Blue Sun presence where we were was a lot smaller than I had originally thought. With Meacham's body in tow, we boarded the repossessed frigate and got off the planet with nothing more than a bumpy exit from the atmosphere. An all around uneventful end to what had been, in my eyes, a complete mission failure that had resulted in the death of two of the best men I have ever commanded, and it was all because we had to rescue some scientist who just happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time, around the wrong people, for once having been apart of the wrong fucking ship, for some stupid fucking research that seemed completely pointless to me.

I hated her just as much as the Batarians did at this point.

I stood there, contemplative next to four caskets, in the center of Vila Militar, a ribbon in my hand and a MVC designation on my chest. The graduation ceremony was held on a perfect, beautiful day in Rio de Janeiro. The sun was out and shining against the clear blue sky, with just enough of a gentle breeze to cause the palm trees to sway gracefully against its touch. A perfect day for people to go about their daily lives and continue their daily activities, ignorant of all the violence that was occurring in the galaxy outside of their own planet to keep them safe. They would go to sleep this day with no other care in the world other than what they would be doing tomorrow.

Everyone would go to sleep this day thinking that.

Everyone except me.

I had failed my men, though King and Miller would spend the days between the mission and the ceremony trying to convince me otherwise. The Alliance Hierarchy decided I had done a good enough job retrieving the Doctor and her research that they had decided to promote me.

Commander John Shepard.

I was angry with them. A promotion? Two dead and I get a pat on the back and a pay raise? They would go on to say that there was nothing I could to have prevented the deaths and that everything had been done by the book as expected. That didn't make me feel an ounce better, it made me feel worse. I had done everything right and I still had lost two men.

King and Miller immediately received orders to units. No goodbyes were given between us. Just a nod of the head. We knew from experience that the chances of us ever seeing one another again were slim.

They left and I found myself alone.

I stood there, staring down at four caskets, in the center of Vila Militar. A ribbon in my hand and an MVC designation on my chest.

N7.

* * *

**(!) Should be noted that while most of you will catch that I made note of Batarians being in the Blue Suns and having also mentioned Zaeed being in charge. For those privy of the Lore of Mass Effect this might cause some concern, however, like I mentioned in the first chapter with leniency, this group of Blue Suns was part of the initial integration of the Batarians into the group under the close supervision of Vido Santiago. Since there is no set date for when the mutiny took place, or how long after the inclusion of aliens into the group it occurred either, I'm sure this won't be too hard for some people to allow as part of this story's continuity. **

**It's been a few chapters since I mentioned a song that oddly helped shape it. For this one, the song that was of choice "The Catalyst" by Linkin Park.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Akuze I

**A/N While I am trying my best to get chapters written, edited, and reviewed frequently, living the military life has demands of it's owns that prevent me from making adequate time to handle most of that. Expect during the week, for those of you following closely, to maybe see one or two chapters done in that time frame, with the weekends where I am most productive. **

**Again, enjoy the story.**

* * *

**Log 6**

**Date 2177**

**Location Akuze**

Night had finally settled. I told the men to take up camp around the abandoned colony. The patrols I had sent out throughout the day had returned with no real answers as to why the colonists had suddenly disappeared. All the men had thrown out suggestions to me, but none of them could provide adequate proof to support their theories.

Pirates? No signs of struggle. Nothing seemed disturbed.

Raiders? Same as Pirates.

Disease? No graves. No mass burn pits.

Nothing was making sense. The only thing that we managed to find was some strange black and orange logo, which one of my troops had told me belonged to some Corporation called 'Cerberus'. I made a mental note to investigate who they were later. Maybe one of their PR reps could provide something.

The night was a cold one, which contrasted the blistering heat we had experienced when we first landed on the arid planet. The colonists had been sent here to see if they could do any sort of successful terraforming of the planet for normal habitation. Akuze was high in natural resources so it had garnered high hopes for being the next Eden Prime, and because of that attention, a lot of private Corporations took interest in it. It was a well-funded expedition, not cheap by any sort of means with the extents they went through to make sure the colonists had the best equipment and highly respected candidates, paid for by not only the Alliance but by the private sector of humanity. So when the colonists just randomly up and disappeared, it made a lot of people worried about their investments.

So they sent me.

With a group of 50 Marines, I lead them onto this planet to investigate what happened. It was definitely interesting finally leading men and women who were younger than me, but at the same time, it made me feel incredibly old. Even though I was 23, something about the military makes a one-year difference between ages seem like a lifetime of experience. Then again, being the only N7 on this mission on this mission didn't help that. Part of me kind of hated wearing the designation on my chest. It made your troops expect so much more out of you. Not to just lead them to success, but in the course of the mission, do something absolutely incredible that it would just blow their mind. Its not that I didn't welcome or respect the challenge of outperforming people's expectations, it just at times I wish I could just be like;

"Meh, you take care of it."

Oh well.

This is the price I pay for taking this course in life.

As the men settled down, I set up the watch, prepping a man named Corporal Toombs as the first shift. He came up to me around 2200, ready to report for his duty.

"Being here is a waste of time, don't you think, sir?" He said as he approached me. He was a young man, but had gone through the ranks relatively quickly in his one year in the Marines due to him being, at least on paper, a very shit-hot Marine. Part of me respected him for it, but the other part of me didn't like him at all. He was a try hard, went out of his way to do all he could to impress me, but at the same timing putting down those under his command who marred his image at all, even in the slightest. His hardsuit was polished to a tee, showing, at least to me, signs of not having been used at all.

Maybe I'm just not easily impressed. Do one month at Vila Militar then come talk to me.

I smirked at him, agreeing on the inside with his sentiments, "I don't quite think so, Corporal. We lost some good people here. It's only fair that we try and figure out what happened to them and bring their families peace. If someone you cared for disappeared, you'd want answers, wouldn't you?"

The diplomatic response that I meant every word of, but I knew when to conceal my true opinions on a mission, if not for my career, then for the morale of my men.

"I guess you're right, sir…"

I know I'm right.

"… It's just I thought when I joined the Marines that I'd be on the frontlines, fighting back Raiders or Rebels, but no. It's been nothing but guard duty back on Mars or just going on wild goose hunts for disappearing colonists."

I wanted to tell him that our mission here was more about protecting Corporate interests rather than actually finding the colonists, but I couldn't bring myself to rush him to his eventual realization that the military is only a tool of the government… which in turn is a tool of the Corporations. It would happen soon enough, it happens to us all. The sooner you come to accept it, the easier it makes your life down the road… or at least in the military.

"I know, and one day you'll get your chance to prove yourself. But right now, I need you to focus on the mission at hand. We got people missing and the sooner we find them, sooner we can get them home. Let's get it done," I stood and patted him on the shoulder, "Then maybe I'll see what I can do about getting you to those frontlines."

A lie.

I didn't have enough leverage in the cogwheel that was the Alliance to pull strings on who went where and next, but one that he bought and one that would keep his morale up during this mission. A part of me felt bad lying to the kid, but part of me understood that keeping the sheet over his eyes was more important to him right now… that and his constant seeking of my approval of him was becoming annoying.

He gave me a crisp salute, turned, and left.

As he went on his merry way towards his post, I returned to the tent that I had set up, thankful that I could now finally get some sleep. I slipped out of my hardsuit and into my sleeping bag, welcoming the warmth it provided as I rested my head against my pack that I used as a make-shift pillow. I began to think of my past. Of all the things I had done in my life and the people I missed. Not to wallow in remorse or pity, but because the thoughts of them always helped me rest. Though some of them were dead, it was the memories of how they impacted me in their life that helped me celebrate their memory rather than mourn it.

Meacham's constant teasing of Reed for being the silent one.

Reed attempting again and again to take down Meacham in a fistfight, but never once being able to, always finding himself getting tapped out within seconds. The two shared a love-hate relationship whose ups and downs provided the team I lead through Anhur with countless laughs.

And then there was Elaine.

I haven't spoken to her since I left OCS for the N7 program. A pang of regret came over me. I missed her. I should've kept in contact with her. I shoul-

I pulled my omni-tool from next to me.

_/Private Message Terminal_

_ .Mil_

_ /Password: *********_

_ /From: _

I hope she still uses her old screenname….

_/To: RedDeadElaine_

It dawned on me now how stupid her username was… is…

_/We haven't talked in years. Hope all is well. Wouldn't mind catching up sometime._

I laid there, reading over the simple message over and over again. Is that all I should say? Should I ask more?

A rumble being heard from outside pulled me from continuing to over analyze the message.

It's been years since I last talked to her… she probably barely even remembers me. I shouldn't get worked up over something like this. It's just a message to a woman. I've been blown up, shot at, lost friends, and kept me cool… but of course, when a woman enters the picture, us guys get all weird and shit.

I felt like I was 19.

Sonuvabitch.

I put my omni-tool back next to my hardsuit and crawled deeper into my sleeping bag, pushing thoughts of her back in the recesses of my mind.

That was, until a ping came over my omni-tool. A response.

_/He found out about us._

What?

Another rumble.

Who found out about us? Finch? Oh shit. If he found out about us, and with his streak of violence… Oh fuck.

Then from outside of my tent, the screams began.


	7. Chapter 7 - Akuze II

**Log 7**

**Date 2177**

**Location Base Camp, Akuze**

All thoughts of Elaine and Finch were dashed from my mind as soon as I heard the screams. I jumped out of my bag, throwing as much of my hard-suit on as I could, which ended up only being the trousers. I grabbed a shirt before running outside, taking into view something I never expected to see.

A gruesome scene of giant, insect like worms, were bounding through my camp – tearing through my Marines, and dragging them to their deaths underground. The Marines were hopelessly trying to defend themselves against the creatures, but nothing they did was of any effect against the beasts. The MAKOS that we had brought with us had been destroyed, their ruins ablaze, lighting up the night sky. I pulled the butt stock of my rifle into my shoulder and opened fire, trying my best to do what little I could against such creatures, all while thinking of what the hell I was supposed to do to get my men out of this slaughter.

A thunderous explosion next to me caught me by surprise, but it was the pain of something crashing into my side that jolted me out of my daze, sending me face first into the ground. Sand entered my mouth as my first thoughts began to assume that I was dead – or about to be. That it was all over and that my tomb would be some stupid planet and my cause of death was a giant fucking worm.

I didn't register a man's voice yelling into my ear telling me to keep my head down.

Sand and debris crashed into me followed by the sound of something burrowing down into the Earth. When the sand settled a bit, my eyes shot open to find a man on top of me.

"You alright, sir?" He yelled as he got back up, his eyes darting around for the next attack, his rifle at the ready.

I stood back up. I didn't even know this kid's name, but I owed him my life, "I am!" A plan began formulating in my mind. We needed to get off this planet and we needed to do it fast, but we also needed reinforcements, "You have your omni-tool?"

I lost mine. Like an idiot.

"I do, sir!"

"Good! Get comms with the pilots and tell them to prep the shuttles! We need to get out of here, now!"

He nodded to me and knelt down, activating his omni-tool and rapidly punching in the frequency needed. I pulled by rifle back up to my shoulder and covered him, sending shots into whatever worm was above ground at the time.

"November 3-1, this is November 2-…" Another loud explosion of earth and sand entered my ears, followed by a loud grunt and dire screams of fear. I turned around just in time to watch the tail end of the worm that had just taken down the Marine who not even two minutes earlier had saved my life.

Sonuvabitch.

I looked around, scrambling to find someone. To my luck, near where I was standing, a fallen Marine laid on the ground – his omni-tool still in tack.

I rushed over, pulled it from him, and punched in codes.

"November 2, this is November 3-1, come in!" A voice came over the omni-tool once I had set the correct frequency in.

"This is November Actual! Activate Distress Beacon Alpha, Priority Black! Get communications with any Alliance ship that we are under attack!"

"Roger, sir, activating bea-"

Static.

"November 3-1, do you copy!?"

Static.

"NOVEMBER 3-1!?"

Oh my god.

They were gone…

Marine after Marine, I watched as each and every single one of them was killed. And there was nothing I could do about it. There was no bravado that could be done to whisk them all away to safety. No final brilliant plan to save us all.

All I could do was watch.

I fell back on my ass, just waiting for my end to come.

I didn't realize it at first…

But I caught myself praying.

* * *

"… _In other news, The Systems Alliance Navy reports that an unreported number of Marines sent to the planet Akuze were killed today in an attack. The planet had been chosen for the Alliances a few years ago as the new planet to attempt colonization. The details of the report, such as why Marines were there in the first place, have yet to be clarified, but as of this time, there is only one known unnamed survivor. More information, tonight at 2300 with Dan Sather... "_

They told me they found me dead at first, laying amidst the rubble.. But while they were piling the corpses of the fallen that they could find into a shuttle to bring them home, I guess someone noticed that my hard suit was still picking up a heartbeat. Lucky me. I couldn't tell you what happened in those final hours. All I could remember was losing communications with the pilots then just... I guess.. submitting myself to my fate. At some point I blacked out. I could still hear their screams. That thunderous cacophonous sound as the worms emerged from the ground to deal death to us.

I was reminded of the Ahern Special in Basic.

I sat in a hospital for weeks. Recovering from malnutrition and who knows how many broken bones. For weeks I had to listen to some therapist talk to about how I was holding up with the sudden and violent loss of my men. I guess the Admirals thought that Anhur followed by Akuze would be enough to break a man.

I fucking hate therapists.

But… I didn't know what I was supposed to feel. There was nothing that I could do. At least with Meacham and Reed, had I been more careful and more attentive, they might still be alive.

But Akuze?

I had no control. I felt useless. I felt like I was nothing.

I decided that I hated that feeling.

That I never wanted to feel it again.

That no matter what happens, from here on out, even in the face of odds that to others would seem impossible, I would still –try-. Or else I would die in the effort.

I refuse to let impossible stop me any longer.

* * *

**A/N Almost done with the prologue of Shepard and what made him into who he was for the trilogy. Another chapter or two and then the chapters relaying how Mass Effect happened through my eyes begins. I hope you all are enjoying what you read and please, feel free to express opinions on what you would like to see or not like to see, etc. **


	8. Chapter 8 - Elaine II

**Log 8**

**Date 2178**

**Location – Milky Way / Armstrong Nebula / Hong**

_ "Approaching LZ, Commander. 5 Minutes."_

_ They would say it would be too soon for me to return to combat._

_ I stood up and addressed the troops in the shuttle with me, "Alright, gents. You know the drill. Let's get it done an-"_

_ "Get it done clean. Nothing heroic. Nothing crazy. Be aware. Be reactive," they finished my sentence for me._

_ "You need to come up with something new, Commander," one of them said._

_ I smirked, "Old habits die hard, Marine."_

_ Part of me didn't want to get to know them personally. I knew all too well the pain of watching my teams die before my very eyes. Meacham. Reed. Toombs. All the Marines on Akuze. They still haunted me in my dreams. So I keep them all at arm's reach. Everything was professional. Yes, sir. No, sir. Aye aye, sir. That way, if one of them were to get killed, it wouldn't affect me as much._

_ They all shared in a laugh, before rising themselves, doing gear and weapon checks as they lined up to next to the rear and aft hatches, prepping for landing. 15 of them would leave this shuttle with me on a mission to clear out the last pirate anchorage discovered from the Thesaca findings. Six months of tracking FTL exit vectors, finding patterns in shipments, and hunting down pirate hideouts. Countless ships destroyed in this mission, seven major pirate anchorages destroyed, and here we were… at the final one. _

_ We landed with a thud._

_ "Weapons hot."_

_ The doors flew open, chaos ensued as shots entered into the shuttle, getting deflected off shields and kinetic barriers. _

_ "Go, go, go!"_

* * *

Once the mission in Thesaca was over, the Alliance would give me a commendation for "outstanding leadership" and "overcoming numerous obstacles in the face of uncertain danger". Not a single KIA over the entire half-year we spent in that system. I would get a lot of pat on the backs, numerous praises for such an outstanding bounce back from Akuze.

If only they knew.

The months following Akuze, I would spend hours talking with a therapist about my feelings and how I was doing. I lied every single time I got the chance. Telling him that I was okay, that I slept well, and that nothing was out of the ordinary. But it wasn't. I'd wake up in the middle of the night with shakes, sweating profusely, before the images of my nightmares finally broke me down enough to cry. Over the course of time, I was able to steel myself against the faces of all the Marines I've failed… but they still showed up, every single night, bloodied with eyes devoid of life… staring at me. I would see Meacham staring at me, with his throat all but gone. Reed's expression as he fell from the shuttle that would carry us to safety on Anhur. The countless troops that were dragged down to their grave on Akuze. Every night, the same nightmare. Every morning, the same sweat soaked t-shirt and shakes.

But I pushed past it, kept it hidden from everyone else. No one needed to know my troubles. I had a mission. I had an ideology that I needed to represent to keep my Marine's morale up and to lead them into battle effectively. _The Survivor of Akuze. _They couldn't know. I wouldn't let them to close enough to me for the possibility to even enter their head. Oh well, it'd all be over soon. Two more years left and I would be done with the Alliance. I could get out, go somewhere nice, and just relax… no more responsibilities, no nothing. Just John Shepard, the civilian.

Vila Militar was my next assignment after Thesaca, having been sent here for some training on new technology the Alliance had upgraded with. I was almost done with the course when I found myself walking into an old friend after a midday workout.

"Shepard!" Anderson said with a smile as we ran into each other in the main lobby.

"Captain Anderson," I returned the smile, "It's good to see you again."

"You too, son," We shook hands, "You've had quite an interesting career since I remember our talk from when you were in Basic."

"Following me, sir?"

"With interest, Shepard. I would love to sit and chit chat, catch up, but I actually came here to present you with an assignment, personally."

He handed me a brown folder.

** SSV NORMANDY SR-1 – CLASSIFIED**

"Sir?"

"When you're done here, Shepard, you're already approved for three weeks of leave. I suggest you take it. I'll see you then, Commander."

We exchanged salutes. He patted me on the shoulder one last time, then turned and left. A brief meeting, though I'm sure that's exactly what he intended. He was never one to make things longer than they should be. I sighed, looking over the folder without opening it. Normandy, huh? So my next assignment would take me onto a ship. That should be interesting, I thought, considering I've spent most of my career as a ground soldier. Something different for once could be a change, a breathe of fresh air. A chance to get away from all the bullshit I've had to put with for recent years. Who knows? Maybe it might even spark my interest in the military again… but not that I was really hoping for that to happen.

Three weeks of leave, huh?

Guess it's time to go home, then.

Two weeks later, I found myself standing in the grossly large spaceport of Vancouver. Dressed in a black hoody and normal jeans, I had decided before I even left Vila Militar that I would do everything in my power to prevent anyone from finding out that I was a military man. People tended to act weird around us, giving us free discounts and thanking us for the service we provided. To be honest, it felt like they pitied us. _We're sorry you have to go through such harrowing ordeals, here, have a free meal – on us._ I knew deep down some of them actually were thankful for what we did… but I hated the attention. I just wanted to be treated like a normal person. Not some damned hero.

I stepped outside in the pouring rain, much to my dismay, with no idea of where I would go. I knew I could go back to Tenth Street, but did I really want to spend three weeks in the slums? I had money now, I could go into the inner city, rent a nice hotel, and maybe go to a few clubs, unwind… get laid maybe, who knows!

So I was surprised when I found myself sitting inside a taxi;

"Where to, sir?"

"Tenth Street."

Sonuvabitch.

I guess the years had been a lot nicer to Tenth Street than it had for me, because the place the taxi stopped was nothing like the place I remembered. I got into an argument with the taxi driver, vehemently defending my belief that there was no way we were in Tenth Street, but… he eventually kicked me out anyway, called me crazy, and charged me double for the ride. Ironically, he dropped me off on the same street, in front of the same building that my whole journey had begun at. Though, the recruiter's station was now long gone and replaced by a small store.

What had once been a rundown part of town was now a street flashing with brilliant lights and extravagant advertisements for the latest fashions. Where there had once been alleys full of bums and hood rats jostling each other for cash at knifepoint, there were now businessmen and woman, walking around in broad daylight with escorts wrapped around their arms. This place had gone from a piece of shit breeding ground for criminals to a high rise high price breeding ground for criminals.

You could put make up on it, but it still reeked of injustice.

… Did I really just say reek of injustice? What the fuck.

I threw my seabag over my shoulder, threw the taxi man his money (asshole), before stepping off down the street. I was out of place here. My hoodie didn't quite blend in with the expensive suits and ties of the rich and powerful. People noticed me. Not something I was hoping for. I pulled my hood up, trying my best to hide my appearance, and it worked to some extent. I stopped getting stares. I guess people were used to a man walking down the street with his face covered. Shouldn't be surprised. I had been walking for a good few minutes when I came across what I assumed was a hotel. I checked in, took the elevator up to the fifth floor, room 515, and crashed. Exhaustion had finally taken over.

What was I doing here? I had no reason to be here… What was I hoping to see here? Old friends? I wasn't like that anymore… I said reek of injustice, for god's sake!

Deep down though… I knew why I had come. I knew why I stepped into that taxi and why I subconsciously had already decided on Tenth Street before I even knew what I was doing.

Elaine.

* * *

**A/N For those of you have been following the story so far, thank you for your continued interest. I would actually like to take some time to ask a question;**

**Have any of you noticed the change in Shepard since the 1st Chapter, if you think any? If so, please share in a review and let me know what you think. This is going to be a very long story and I do take to heart people's opinion of my story as well as things they wish to see. Lemme know, keep me updated, and I hope you all continue to enjoy my writing.**


	9. Chapter 9 - Elaine III

**A/N For those of you curious, or interested, in a physical inspiration for Elaine – check out Jenna McDougall from **_**"Tonight Alive". **_**She's the inspiration for the character physically. Mentally? Let's not go there…**

**Before though, I would like to give a huge shoutout to my friend, Meg, who helped me so much with this chapter. So; thank you very much for your assistance and I couldn't be more thankful. **

**Also, going to apologize for the delay between chapters. Military. Work. Etc. Sorry!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Log 9**

**Date 2178**

**Location – Vancouver, Earth, Sol System**

A few hours later, I was jolted awake by a loud bang that had me halfway out of my bed before I had even fully awoken. Instinct told me gunfire, and years of training had me immediately searching for viable weapons plus escape points. Which, if you were curious, were three. And out of the countless objects in this room, only about five objects could be made into weapons that would puncture and cut. Well, six if you included the bed posts. My ears had begun searching for sounds, trying to catalog which was hostile and which was not… then I heard the laughing and shuffling of feet.

Drunks. By the way they were slurring the words that could be heard and the stumble in their step every few feet. It was only a door being shut by a group of people heading out after a good time pre-gaming for the night ahead.

I plopped my head on my bed. Fuck, man. Get your shit together. Part of me was angry for letting this happen, but the other part of me knew it came with the territory. I shouldn't be upset at what had happened, as long as I understood why it did. I hate when therapists were right.

I decided that I needed to get out – to not waste anymore time thinking about the past and instead enjoy the time I got off. Who knows where Anderson has got me going next, so why not live this night up to the fullest?

Entering the club that night, I decided to dress myself in a pair of tailored jeans, a dark V-neck shirt, and my favorite leather jacket… a gift given to me a long time ago by Meacham when he tried to drag me out into Rio De Janeiro. He played dress up with me since the only style I knew at the time was street rat. I looked damn sharp by the time he was done, but 'lo and behold.. our night was cut short by training.

As the heavy bass rhythms pulsated through the club and my body, I could feel it wash away all of the thoughts that had plagued me recently and brought into me a feeling of control that I had not felt for a very long time. Stepping down the small set of stairs that led down to the door floor, I caught more than a few heads turning my way as I waded through the crowd of people, and found myself at the bar.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the attention.

As I leaned against the bar and ordered a scotch from the bartender, one face in particular had caught my attention.

She was sitting at the bar about 5 stools down, nursing some kind of vibrant blue drink. The lights from the club danced across her pale skin in stark contrast to the short, black dress she was wearing. As my eyes caught hers, she brushed a tendril of her long, red hair behind her ear and pulled up the corner of her mouth in a smirk. I responded with a smug expression of my own before looking back at my drink. I hadn't pursued a woman in so long that I wasn't even sure I'd remember how, but one more look at her was all the convincing I needed.

"Man up, John," I muttered to myself before downing the rest of my drink.

I stood up and looked back at the place where the woman had been only to discover some random guy sitting in her stool yelling drink orders at the bartender over the music. Quickly I scanned the area, determined not to miss an opportunity with a woman so gorgeous. It only took a second before I spotted her red hair among the crowd. It was odd how, in the darkened environment, everyone else seemed to be in muted tones while she stood out as vibrantly as the sun.

Before I could even decide what to do next, she turned and looked directly at me, throwing a devilish expression that dared me to follow her, and that was all it took. My body propelled itself after her before my mind could catch up. I weaved in and out of the crowd, doing my best not to break line of site with this mysterious woman, but halfway across the club she got swallowed up in the mob and I lost her entirely. I quickened my pace as I pushed past trust-fund kids and twenty-something's until I finally found myself on the edge of the dance floor.

I don't know why I was so determined to find her. Maybe for once I just wanted to accomplish something that didn't risk lives. Maybe I wanted to fulfill a primal instinct to get laid. Or maybe what they say is true... we only want what we can't have. And at the time, she was the most illusive person I'd never met… so I had to have her.

As my mind continued throwing out reasons for why I was so drawn to her, she appeared in the middle of the dance floor. Red (at least that's what I called her in my head) swung her head back and forth in time with the music while her body bounced to the beat in perfect coordination. As we made eye contact once more, she started moving away from me again, heading toward the back of the club, still dancing seductively as she went.

"It's like following the goddamn white rabbit," I said to myself, as I started after her once more.

I moved across the dance floor, not even pretending to dance as I pushed my way through the mass of writhing bodies. As Red reached the back wall of the club, I watched as she smiled at me once more and then pushed through a back exit, disappearing into the night.

I was only ten feet behind her by then and managed to catch the door before it even fully closed. I quickly slipped outside and into an abandoned back alley where Red stood waiting, leaning against the opposite wall.

Her lips pursed in an expression of pure self-satisfaction and for some reason, the only response I could think of was to kiss those lips until we both were as satisfied as she looked. In few strides, I stepped into her without saying a word, tangling my fingers in her vibrant, ruby hair as I pulled her lips to mine. She matched my enthusiasm in full as she pulled me further against her.

I don't know how long we spent kissing in the alley, or how we knew when enough was enough, but eventually we both pulled away. Her bright blue eyes pierced mine as she flashed me the same smirk that had started all of this in the first place. I opened my mouth to say something, but she kissed me before I could get the words out, silencing any coherent thought I was about to convey. As she pulled away, I couldn't help but smile at this gorgeous stranger. She returned the expression and then, without a single word, she slipped back inside, disappearing from my sight as fully as she'd consumed it.

A full blown smile was plastered across my face as I walked out of the alley and down the street back towards the hotel, hands in my pocket and a skip in my step. I might not have been able to get Red back to the hotel like I had hoped to be, but for a reason that I couldn't figure out, that was okay to me. I let out a small laugh. I looked like I had just won the lottery and it had bought me a few weird glances from passing strangers. But I couldn't care less. I was happy. For the first time in a very long time, I was happy. So fuck 'em.

As I walked down Tenth Street, letting the mixture of music exiting from all the various clubs there enter my body, did I realize just how hungry I was, and began looking for a restaurant of any sort to solve that. I stopped and began scanning, my eyes darting from building to building; sign to sign, hoping to find something… when they laid upon a sign with a very interesting name.

"Red's," I said out loud, letting a small laugh escape my lips. Of course, the first place where I could find food would be the one named after my old gang. Be willing to bet credits that the place was run by them too. My mind told me that going there would be a bad idea, but my stomach disagreed, providing a very strong argument in why I should go there and gorge myself on whatever food they could provide.

… It was a damn good argument.

As I crossed the street and stepped inside, I found myself blown away by the level of richness that the place exuded. It was like a dining hall for a mansion, with a gallery of art on its walls that could easily be worth millions of credits. The marble floors reflected the lighting that came from the diamond chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

While I was blown away by it's beauty, it told me a lot. If this place was indeed run by my old crew, then it's safe to assume this district's wealth is because of them as well. No other place on this street was as richly decorated as here. It was a show of wealth, of power, of who was in control… so that the rich, the powerful, or whoever dined here knew exactly who ran the place.

Clever.

"Excuse me, sir, but umm… are you sure you stepped into the right place?" A waiter had come up to me while I was doing my analysis. Did he seriously just insinuate that I might not be rich enough to dine here?

I looked at him with a raised brow, "No, I meant to come in here. Why?"

"Well, I'm just saying we're not used to having individuals dressed such as yourself dining here, sir."

Bingo.

I smirked, "My apologies for being under dressed. I had different plans for tonight and didn't think I'd be eat-…" Oh shit.

I had glanced past the waiter to a table set in the far corner of the place. Sitting in a booth, which had to be crafted of leather and oak, was a woman all by herself, with a tall drink in her hand, staring right back at me with eyes of honey. She ran her hand up to her hair, drawing it back behind her ear, as a look of both confusion and shock washed over her face.

Oh shit.

The waiter followed my stare, "Ah," he leaned in closer and said to me in a whisper, "That is one I would keep my eyes away from, sir."

I raised a brow of my own. That's never a good thing to hear about an old friend of yours, "And why is that?"

"She's very…" Powerful? Merciless? What? What made her someone to stay away from? "… connected."

We continued to stare at one another for awhile, with her expression of shock turning into one of joy as began to beckon me over. I wanted to go to her. Every fiber of me wanted nothing more than to sit next to her, enjoy a meal, and catch up on old times. Or at least discuss Finch and what happened with the message on Akuze.

But now was not the time. I didn't return the smile.

"Thanks for the warning," I said to the waiter, "I guess I'll just take my business elsewhere."

"Very well, sir."

I took one last glance at her. Confusion again. Her eye's were pleading with me to stay.

But I couldn't. I shoved my hands into my pockets, turned around, and left.

* * *

**There was a lot of writing/re-writing of this chapter. I'm really glad with how it turned out as it allowed me to kind of let Shepard show some of his wilder side before he has to go and be the Shepard he's destined to be. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please review, as I love constructive criticism and advice - as he helps me become a better writer and write a better story.**

**Lemme know what you like/dislike - what you wish to see and whatnot.**

**Credit again goes out to Meg for help big time with this chapter and the wall that I hit pretty hard.**

**Also; make note of Red. Just sayin'.**


	10. Intermission I

Author's Note

I wanted to take this time and apologize for the delay between my last chapter and this. Being military, things happen that pull you away from what you enjoy doing for awhile and that's exactly what happened. When I came back – I reread some of these chapters and decided I wasn't happy with how the story was progressing. You're going to see a chapter missing and another chapter updated to reflect this.

With having more time now, hopefully I can continue the updates. Thank you for staying with me if you have been.

-Rathias


	11. Chapter 11 - Kaiden

**A/N: I know this chapter isn't long - compared to the rest of mine, but this is just a small step in restarting my commitment to this story. I know it's been awhile since any updates have occurred and I apologize. Thank the military. I'll be working on updates once more to this story and hopefully I'll be able to continue to please those who've followed me. Thank you again.**

* * *

I couldn't quite figure out why I walked away.

I mean, I came back here for her, didn't I? Wasn't the whole reason of me being here was to achieve closure and to move on? Clear my mind for my future? So when the opportunity presented itself to talk to her… I just walked away. The hell is wrong with me? After all I've seen and done... After Anhur, Akuze, Thresher Maws, whatever… it's dealing with a woman that scares me the most. Great. Isn't that pathetic?

I sat at a random bar, taking a swig of some drink the bartender said was a local brew. I didn't really care. I just wanted to get drunk and forget whatever happened this night. Typical, of me, to start a night of so well and then watch it come spiraling down. I seriously must attract this kind of shit…

Another swig.

Part of me wanted to walk back, to I guess maybe salvage something. I mean, was there anything to salvage? I kind of just turned and left… There's got to be something to savage. Something I could pull out of this. If I go back...

"Oof!"

I ran into someone as I had turned up to leave. It turned out to be an Alliance serviceman, since he was wearing his uniform out into town. He was about my height, dark hair, with the name 'Alenko' stitched on the front of his utilities, the dark blue shirt and cargo pants work in when we don't want to bother with our actual uniforms.

I stepped back and apologized. I didn't really want to be bothered with military problems right now so I decided to just act like a normal civilian. Maybe I could just get out of here before I get pestered with questions that were bound to come if he recognized who I really was.

"Sorry," he began to sputter, "Didn't mean to bump into you."

I shook my head, "Don't worry about it, it was my fault anyways. In too much of a rush to pay attention to wear I was going."

He got a good look at my face and I could tell I was doomed.

"Wait… aren't you…"

Sigh.

"I am."

He snapped to attention and saluted me. I guess I'm the only one in the Alliance who understands when someone is in civilian attire, you really should just leave them alone… but there are customs and courtesies I'm required to follow, so with great control of how much I let frustration show on my face, I returned the salute.

"Staff Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko, sir. It's an honor to meet you."

"At ease, Lt," I guess I'll indulge him for a while, "Have a seat and join me for a drink."

"Thank you, sir," he said, sitting down on the stool next to me before ordering a Vancouver Ale from the bartender, whom he called Frank. Guess he must be from around here.

"So what brings you to Vancouver, Alenko?"

"PCS, sir, going to some new secret project the Alliance is working on. Apparently I'm good enough to have been recognized to be a member of its crew. Selected by Captain Anderson himself."

He couldn't really mean…

"The Normandy?"


End file.
